


Can I Get A Wingman?

by Maya_Koppori



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, bitty bakes, jack gets a lil jealous, no one - Freeform, no one can resist moomaws's lemon squares, rated for snowy's language, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maya_Koppori/pseuds/Maya_Koppori
Summary: Jack wants to introduce Bitty to his new teammates, but fears that they won't get along. As it turns out, he should have been worried for the opposite reason.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based off of a post by itsybittle on tumblr that was made back in April and took me until literally today to finish. I could never figure out how to end it T_T
> 
> But anyway, here we go!

[Original Post](http://itsybittle.tumblr.com/post/143393634015/i-dont-know-why-but-i-cant-help-but-think-how)

Jack isn't shaking with nerves as he ushers Bitty into the Falconers’ training facility. He really isn't. He has no reason to be. The way he's shifting from foot to foot, practically bouncing on his heels and clenching his fists tight to keep himself from placing a protective arm around his boyfriend’s back, is all due to… Fatigue. Yeah, he’ll go with that. Because he’s  _ not worried _ .

“You can stop worrying. Everything is gonna be fine. You said yourself how nice your teammates are.” Bitty whispers up to him with a reassuring grin. He pats the basket hanging from his arm for good measure. “And even if they don't take to me at first, they sure will after I break out MooMaw’s lemon squares.”

Jack winces. He didn't have Bitty fooled for a second. “I'm not worried about that,” he mumbles.

Bitty slows to a stop, looking at Jack curiously. They're right outside the locker room now, where the rest of the team should be cooling down after their post-workout showers. Jack can hear the boys bantering through the heavy door. His breath hitches.

“Honey, if you don't think this is a good idea…” Bitty starts. 

“No,” Jack insists. “No, I would really like for you to meet the guys. It's just. I don't know what it is.” He stares at his feet, lip tight between his teeth. Sometimes there isn't a specific fear. Sometimes going into any situation just makes him feel like something  _ has _ to go wrong. Even if he can't figure out what. It’s extremely frustrating.

Thankfully, Bitty seems to understand. Quickly glancing around, he makes sure they're fully alone before reaching up to cup Jack’s cheek in his hand. “Listen, Jack. We’re gonna be fine. We’re in this together, right?”

Jack’s heart flutters and he can't help but smile as he leans into his boyfriend’s touch. “Yeah. Let's do it.” Before he can lose his nerve, he steps back from Bitty and throws his shoulder into the door. 

The commotion inside is a familiar one; towels and water bottles fly through the air and the whole place smells like iron and sweat. Jack feels Bitty relax further beside him, and has to smother a grin. 

“Zimmboni!” a deep voice booms from across the room, and Jack has about half a second to prepare before he's tackled from the side and wrapped in a steely hug. “You shower and skip out so fast, make me think you not come to lunch with guys!”

“Hey, Tater,” Jack wheezes. He can't find the breath to say anything else until he's on the ground again, catching his breath. He feels Bitty’s eyes on him, wide and startled at the display of physicality, and tries to even his breathing. “I didn't skip out, Tater. I just had to meet my friend here and bring him inside.”

Tater’s eyebrows furrow, and then he looks around Jack to see Bitty half hiding behind him and his face splits into a grin. “Ah, Zimmboni brought friend!”

His shout catches the attention of the others, and Jack doesn't envy Bitty as more than twenty pairs of eyes snap to the blond in an instant. The locker room falls into silence. 

Bitty flushes to the tips of his ears. One hand wrenches itself off of his basket and waves jerkily. “H-Hey, y'all. I'm Eric Bittle, but the boys call me Bitty. Nice to meetcha.” 

“Oh my fucking God, you're fucking adorable,” Snowy blurts out, and suddenly the world has unmuted itself and a whirl of introductions begin. With each name said and every hand shaken, there's a spark of recognition on Bitty’s face that drives his grin wider. Jack is suddenly very glad of the hours he spent telling Bitty all about his new team, because he remembers how disorienting it was to meet all of them at once.

“So how do you know this loser, kid?” Thirdy asks, jerking a thumb at Jack. “I didn't think Zimmermann had friends.”

Bitty joins in the laughter at the good natured chirp. “Well, we played on the same line at Samwell if that counts.”

Guy raises his eyebrows but otherwise his expression doesn't shift. “Um, no offense? But you're a little small for the NCAA.”

Jack initially bristles at the comment, but Bitty chuckles. “Believe you me, I know. The captain here is always telling me I need to eat more protein,” he says, nudging Jack with his shoulder. “The chirps have no end, even if he isn't actually my captain anymore.”

“He's the fastest skater I've ever seen,” Jack adds, unable to entirely keep the pride from his voice. “He played first line as a freshman.”

A murmur of approval ripples through the team, and Bitty’s flush returns with a vengeance. “Oh, would you look at me!” he exclaims, rifling through his basket to redirect the attention away from himself. “Here I went and brought snacks for y'all and I'm lettin’em sit here and get cold.”

Poots immediately perks up. “Snacks?” He's not the only one with a hungry gaze. Bitty had picked the perfect time to deliver, right between a workout and lunchtime. 

Bitty grins as he explains. “Well, I made sure to ask Jack beforehand to see if there were any food allergies, of course, and I wouldn't do this off of cheat day. But I figured it just wouldn't be right to visit without bringin’ a little something. Any a y'all ever had lemon squares before?”

After some jostling and mumbles of “the nutritionists” and huffs of “I  _ insist _ ,” each member of the team has a lemon square, including Jack. He pauses, however, before eating his. He's not about to miss their reaction to tasting Bitty’s pastries for the first time. 

“Holy-” Thirdy manages, eyes bulging. Nothing else comes out. 

“Fuckin’ shit-” Snowy, right before stuffing the whole square in his mouth. 

“Hnnnngggh.” Marty hums. His eyes roll back in his head. 

“Zimmermann, I cannot believe you were holding out on-” Poots scolds, but gets cut off. 

_ “Hhnnnnnnnnngggghhh!”  _ Marty groans again, more insistent. Jack flushes in spite of himself at the frankly pornographic sound. Even Poots goes red. That'll get them some chirping later; shy, innocent little rookies. 

Jack doesn't catch what Tater says, but Bitty goes stiff when he hears it and snaps something back. In what sounds like absolutely perfect Russian. 

Tater blinks, half a lemon square still in his hand. “You speak Russian? You know Russian  _ swear _ ?”

Bitty nods sheepishly. “I picked some up from my old figure skating instructor, Miss Yekaterina Lebedev-”

“You train with Katya?” Tater gasps, smiling broader than Jack has ever seen. “Bozhe moi, that woman is best skater I know!”

“Isn't she though?” Bitty squeals, delighted. He all but bounces on his heels as he beams up at Tater. “It was so darn hard to have to leave her behind when we moved, you wouldn't  _ believe- _ ”

“Okay, not to be rude but are there any more of those things?” Snowy cuts in. “I'm fucking starving.”

Jack sighs as Bitty’s face is masked in horror. He can read the thought ‘I’m keeping them from lunch’ as easily as if it were written on his face in marker. Preempting Bitty’s inevitable apology, he raises his voice. “Actually, why don’t we move this to the mess hall? Trust me, if you think Bittle’s stuff is good now, wait until you try it with milk.”

The agreement is unanimous, and they all jostle and push their way to their usual tables, where a buffet of sandwiches, salads, and other healthy lunchtime foods are waiting. The team ignores all of it, opting instead to rush for the pitcher of cold milk sitting at the end of the counter. In no time at all, they’re all having a second lemon square with the added ecstasy of milk.

“What the actual hell, Zimms?” Guy demands, mouth full. “How are you not like, sixty pounds heavier with a friend who can make stuff like this?”

Jack just smiles and eats his second square.

“I’ll tell you how; Jack Zimmermann works harder than  _ God _ ,” Bitty groans. “Let me tell y’all about my freshman year with this guy as captain, you would not  _ believe _ …”

Lunch devolves into a melee of old and new stories, most of them serving only to embarrass Jack. But although Jack keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong and justify his fears, nothing does. Bitty charms the whole team like he's not even trying, acting exactly as if this were another Haus meal. The thought takes root inside of Jack and glows, steady and warm. 

Tater in particular warms up to Bitty extremely quickly. He takes the chair on the other side of Bitty, mirroring Jack. Every few minutes he throws out a phrase or two in Russian and makes Bitty laugh fondly and throw some back. Something twinges deep in Jack’s chest, but he ignores it. Tater is probably just happy to hear someone who’s not his interpreter speak his first language. And now that Jack thinks about it, he does remember Bitty telling him how much he misses his old instructor. So he sits in his chair and goes with the conversation. When Tater throws an arm around the back of Bitty’s chair, he doesn't comment. 

“And that, gentlemen, is how Jack Zimmermann single handedly ran the entire football team out of our Haus with a fire extinguisher,” Bitty says solemnly. The chirp in his tone is subtle, but it's definitely there. 

“It wasn't the  _ whole _ football team,” Jack protests. “Just… Maybe four or five? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Bitty slugs him in the arm. “Stop bein’ so modest. You know you’ll always be our hero.”  _ My hero _ goes unspoken. Jack hears it anyway. 

Tater laughs uproariously, smacking his thigh. “I pay big dollars to see. Zimmboni has no fights in hockey, why fight out of?”

Jack shrugs. “It wasn't really a fight. There was too much foam to really call it that. And… I'm trying to play my way. Penalties aren't worth it to me, but that doesn't mean I won't do what I can to protect my friends.” He looks up at the table to find them all strangely quiet and somber. “What?” he asks. 

Poots leans across the table, beckoning to Bitty. Their foreheads almost touch as Bitty leans in too. “Did he pull this shit in college too, Bits?” Poots asks in a stage whisper. “Switch between hockey robot and actual human being with emotions like it’s nothing?”

Bitty fixes Jack with a look so soft it makes him catch his breath. He almost feels embarrassed that Bitty’s looking at him like that in front of the Falconers, but… At the same time he doesn't want him to stop. 

“Yeah,” Bitty says with a secret smile. “Yeah, he sure did.”

* * *

“Your friend Eric, is he seeing anyone?”

Jack almost drops his tape. “What?” he chokes out after a few seconds. Outwardly, he tries to stay composed. They're in the middle of prepping for morning skate, after all. It wouldn't do to have a breakdown right here on the bench. But inwardly, he's screaming. All of the feelings he had yesterday, the image of Tater’s arm around the back of Bitty’s chair, the Russian and the laughing, come rushing back under a new light. 

Tater tilts his head to one side, the picture of innocence, damn him. “That is expression, yes? What I mean is does he have girlfriend?”

“Oh.” Jack resumes taping his stick. He tries not to sound smug when he answers, “No. No girlfriend.”

“Ah.” Tater nods and continues lacing up his skates. Jack sighs softly, relieved that  _ that _ conversation is over. 

“What about boyfriend?”

The roll of tape slips from Jack’s fingers. Tater watches it roll away, but doesn't move to pick it up. Neither does Jack. 

Jack takes a deep breath through his nose. “...Why do you ask?” he says finally, carefully. So, so carefully. 

Tater blinks, confused, before understanding dawns on his face. “Jack,” he says, uncharacteristically soft and serious. “What they say about Russians and the gay people is not true for all of us.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Jack grabs Tater’s shoulder and squeezes. “No! God, Tater, that's not what I- Of course I didn't think-”

“Is good,” Tater shrugs. “I misunderstand a lot, just wanted to make clear.” He shakes his head, suddenly looking cross with himself. “Bah, look at me. I am terrible wingman.”

Jack makes a soft sound in his throat, confused by the sudden change in topic. “You’re a d-man, Tater, not a winger. And you're incredible at it.”

“Not that kind of wingman. Rookie Poots!” Tater calls and waves a beet-red Poots over to the bench. “I am sorry, I only find out no girlfriend. Ask Zimmboni yourself if little Bitty is on market!”

“Dude, you're gonna ask out Bitty? Fuckin’ A, man, nice choice!” Snowy skates by and ruffles Poots’ hair. 

“Snowy,” Poots protests, but gets clapped on the back by Marty and Thirdy in tandem and it knocks him off balance. He yells out but steadies himself, glaring. “Guys, what the hell?!”

Thirdy puts a hand on his heart, looking dramatically into the distance. “Our little baby rookie is in love. How could you not share this with us? You hurt me, Poots. You hurt me deep.”

“At least he fell for a good one,” Marty concedes. He ticks off fingers as he continues, “He's cute, he's a great cook, he loves hockey…” He shakes his head. “Heck, he's got enough of that southern charm to make  _ Zimms _ smile. Kid’s a catch.”

Jack takes all of this in without a word. He slowly turns his attention back to Poots. The other rookie has the decency to look ashamed, shuffling in his skates and wringing his hands around his stick. If he weren't so furious, Jack might find it funny. 

“Really, Poots?” he asks, fighting to keep his voice even. “What brought this on?”

Poots jumps. His blush intensifies. “Um. Just. He's really, really nice. And all of the other stuff Marty said. I was too nervous to ask him if he, you know, played for my team. I mean I kinda figured but… I'd feel like an asshole just assuming, you know?”

“So I help!” Tater says in an off-key singsong voice. Then he frowns. “Not that good at it, though. Sorry.”

“You're good,” Poots assures him before turning back to Jack with a hopeful smile on his face. “So I was just maybe hoping for his number? If that's okay.” 

Jack grimaces. “He's taken,” he mumbles, aware that the whole team is watching and listening at this point. It's hard, not glaring Poots down. He straps knives to his feet and hurtles across ice at dangerous speeds to slam into other men doing the same for a living, but keeping his cool here is the hardest thing he's ever done. 

The way Poots’ face falls at his answer only makes it worse. Jack knows, logically, that Poots has no idea that he's making the nearly unforgivable faux pas of trying to ask someone out through that person’s boyfriend. He really does know that. 

“Oh,” Poots says quietly. “Is it serious?”

“Yes.” What a silly question; as if Jack could be anything but serious about Bitty. 

“You sure?”

“ **_Yes_ ** .”  _ He doesn't know _ , Jack reminds himself. 

“Oh… Is it one of the guys from the team?”

He'll never be sure why that statement is what pushes him over the line. It's not that the idea of Bitty dating anyone on the Samwell team is far-fetched or makes Jack angry. But the fact that Poots is asking for specifics means that he's too invested in it for Jack’s liking. 

“It's me,” Jack says flatly before he can decide against it. 

Poots blinks, and all of the blood rushes out of his face. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

“I am  _ such  _ an asshole right now. Jesus Zimms, seriously.”

Jack chuckles dryly at that. “You didn't know. It's okay.”

“Holy fuck,” Snowy curses offhandedly, and Jack realizes that his whole team is staring at him now. Marry and Thirdy’s jaws are both on the floor, and Guy isn't blinking. Jack shifts nervously on the bench and raises his eyes back to Snowy, who’s still blinking rapidly. Then his face splits into a wide grin. “Hell yes! Do you guys know what this means?”

“Um-” Poots starts. 

“ _ We can get soooo many pies.” _

Tater laughs so hard he falls backward off the bench while the guys yell and take turns congratulating Jack. The panic fades, and Jack finds himself smiling even while he shoves his way out of a headlock. It's really fine. It's going to be okay. 

He can't wait to call Bitty tonight. 

 


End file.
